AN: I feel it's necessary to say bad Charlie, and move on with my this one scene mostly got me thinking on a different story.


"I mean, I've called, I've sent a few text messages—she hasn't gotten back to me at all," Santana said, she had taken some time off her legitimate work, just so she could have this emergency conversation with Brittany. It had been nearly a week, since her weekend with Charlie, and she had thought that they had both enjoyed themselves.

"She's ghosting you."

"What?"

"Ghosting, the act of ceasing all communication and contact with someone, without any warning or justification, and ignoring any of the partners attempts to reach out or communicate," Brittany said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Santana, it was a one-night stand, and she's treating it as such. I'm happy that you got laid but she's not going to be your wife, she was just a confidence booster, and she did an amazing job, now we can get you dating with people who won't treat you like shit."

Santana frowned, she had been out of the dating game for awhile, but people didn't just drop off the face of the planet like that, at least without an explanation. "I can't think of what I did wrong—I asked for her consent for everything we did, and she seemed to love everything that we did—"

"You probably didn't do anything wrong, so you need to stop thinking about it, about her." Brittany said gently. "We'll find you someone who is good for you."

"She was good for me," Santana argued immediately. "She knows about what I do, she's perfectly okay with my body. I mean we watched The Crown together, she ate a ton of food. We had sex like on every surface of that hotel room, she even let me go without a condom—I mean you don't just fall off the face of the earth after a weekend like that right?"

Brittany winced slightly, she needed to choose her next words carefully. "She's a Fabray, which means she's part of the criminal element, no one carries around that much cash on them without being part of some criminal enterprise. She could be in jail, or she could be busy Santana, either way she's not exactly someone stable that you bring home to meet the parents. You're probably riding a high right now but realistically where do you see this going?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders, it annoyed her to admit that Brittany was right. She couldn't see how introducing Charlie as her girlfriend would go. Her parents had always warned her to stay away from the Fabray's everyone knew they were criminals, and Charlie had admitted that she was generally crafty enough to never get caught, but everyone made mistakes. Though—she could reach out to Russell Fabray to maybe push Charlie to come in to the clinic again, at least so she could take a look at those stitches. It was underhanded, but she'd get to see Charlie again and she could figure out what was going on. Plus, it was probably a good thing to check in to make sure Charlie was actually following her care instructions. "I had fun, she's okay with my body, Britt. I mean she's truly okay with my body. You can't blame me for being a bit—obsessed. But if I don't see her in the next two weeks and she doesn't answer my texts, I'll drop it."

Brittany narrowed her eyes slightly, Santana was planning to do something but she wasn't going to pry. "And we'll help you pick out a date for my wedding," Brittany said with a small smile, as Santana turns to her. "He hasn't proposed yet, but I saw the ring, he's terrible at hiding things. Like I don't go through Mike's underwear drawer to make sure he's wearing something sexy for me."

Grateful for the change of subject Santana, gushes over the pictures that Brittany had managed to snap. Deciding not to point out that Mike had probably put the ring in an obvious place so that he could gauge Brittany's reaction and plan accordingly. She would just have to coach Brittany to make sure she acted surprised.

~ O ~

It's nearly 1 in the morning before she gets back and she's tempted to cancel her morning appointments just so she could sleep in. She had needed to deal with two shootings, and one of the men had died on her table before they could even begin to help him. Losing someone was always rough work. She had hoped to see Charlie at the warehouse, she had given Russell a call and asked him to have Charlie get in touch with them but the blonde had never shown.

It was disappointing, but Russell had only grunted and hung up. He was clearly in a mood which might have meant that Brittany was right and that Charlie was simply busy. Still saying that in a text wasn't too much to ask for right?

With a sigh, she unlocks her front door to her brownstone and steps inside turning on the lights and shrugging off her jacket and putting her purse down. She kicks off her heels and is about to drag herself upstairs to the bedroom so she can pass out on her bed, but she stops to grab a drink of warm water, it generally helped put her to sleep.

It's only seconds after she enters her kitchen that she feels someone move behind her, and before she can even scream or turn around something cold and sharp is placed against her neck causing her to stiffen. Immediately her mind goes to the worst-case scenario, she's going to be raped and murdered in her own house, by some serial rapist serial killer.

"I really don't like people trying to get in touch with me through my father," came a familiar voice, even if it was filled with menace.

"Charlie?" Santana blinked wincing when Charlie pressed the knife in just a bit deeper.

"Why are you calling my dad to talk to me?"

Santana hesitates, Brittany had definitely been right Charlie was part of the criminal element, and she was going to die a horrible death. "I just wanted to see how your shoulder was doing—" she lets out a small whimper when Charlie nicks her, it's not deep but she can feel a drop of blood running down her neck.

"Don't lie to me. Try again," Charlie hisses into her ear.

Charlie's hot breath in her ear, coupled with the fact that her breasts were currently pressing into her back and the danger that she was in immediately forces her dick to attention. "Brittany said that you were ghosting me, and I just wanted to know why you weren't answering my texts. I had fun last weekend and I wanted to know if we could do it again—or just grab lunch sometime. You know like a date." Santana manages to get out hoping that Charlie doesn't notice that the front of her scrubs are tenting now.

There is silence for a moment, and she hopes that Charlie puts the knife away so they can have a normal conversation. "I don't date, and I certainly don't sleep with people twice unless they have some value to me. Information that I might want to obtain for instance, access to people I might not normally have access too. The way I see it you don't have anything to offer for a repeat performance."

Santana swallows feeling the cold blade on her neck, "I'll be your private physician—"

"I have insurance and I already can come see you whenever I want, try again," Charlie whispered in her ear. "Tick-Tock Santana."

"Money—I have money—"

"So, do I and I'm not a whore. I've got more money than I know what to do with." Charlie reminds her. "If you have nothing to offer me then stop calling me—"

"Patient information. I see all sorts of criminals, people you might be interested in. And my private practice sees some important people," it's a massive breach of ethics, and she's not sure why she's so obsessed with Charlie, but she's so turned on right now, and she's never been with anyone who could do this to her. She doesn't even care that this isn't remotely healthy. Charlie had just broken into her apartment, she was holding a knife to her neck, and the rush of blood from her head to her dick was almost dizzying.

"Good. I can work with—" There's a pause for a moment before there's a small scoff, "Are you hard right now?"

She burns in embarrassment, she had hoped that Charlie wouldn't notice, and she would have managed to calm her body, but it was far to late. "No," she lies hoping that Charlie drops it, but instead she feels the knife digging deeper again.

"What did I say about lying to me Santana," Charlie hisses in her ear before biting on the lobe. "Are. You. Hard. Right. Now?" She questions again her voice rougher.

Even when she was dating, she's never felt this humiliated, she had practically been assaulted in her own apartment, and her weird body was reacting in a way that it shouldn't, betraying her. "Yes," her voice breaks into a sob. But despite her shame, her dick only pulsed desperate for release.

"You perverted freak," Charlie's tone was mocking and harsh.

She's heard the tone before, she's heard those word before and she shakes. It's the first time her body has reacted like this, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," She repeats over and over again, the feeling of Charlie's hand resting on the waistband of her scrubs.

"Do you want me to touch it," Charlie whispered into Santana's ear.

The way she says 'it' makes her feel dirty and it fills her with shame, but it does nothing to her hardon. "Yes." When Charlie doesn't do it, she resists the urge to turn her head, there was still a knife to her neck, and she'd already been nicked once. "Please," it comes out as a pant. "Please, touch me."

Charlie's hand slide past her scrubs and her underwear and she wraps her hands firmly around Santana's dick giving her a rough hand job, listening to Santana's pants and mewls. She stops after a moment before she jerks Santana's scrubs down and leads Santana into her living room, using her shoulder to flick on the light as she leads her towards the couch, keeping the knife pressed lightly into Santana's neck as she stumbled along. She finally stops when Santana legs hit the coffee table. "Do you want me to make you cum?"

"Yes, please," Santana whines. The rough but firm hand job had pushed her to the edge and she's not sure what Charlie has in mind, she doesn't care. She doesn't care how she looks right now, all she knew was that she was desperate for Charlie's touch. Her words only seemed to push her closer and closer to an orgasm. She curls her toes, when Charlie begins again, teasing her tip. Her body goes rigid and she's only slightly aware that Charlie's pulled the knife from her neck as she cums all over her nice glass coffee table. It feels more powerful than usual and she slumps back into Charlie once she's finished. She feels Charlie press a kiss to her temple and she feels pleased.

"Your thing made a mess," Charlie whispers gripping Santana's member hard, causing her to whimper in pain even as her dick hardens again. "Jesus, you're a fucking super pervert." She lets go and points to the thick ropes of cum on the table, "Disgusting. Clean up after yourself."

Santana's cheek burn in shame again at Charlie's harsh words, even as she started to get hard again. "Paper towel is in the—"

"Lick it up," Charlie hisses into her ear. "Get on your knees and lick it up," she shoves Santana forward and watches as she drops to her knees and begins to do exactly what she asked. Charlie looks around for a moment before taking a seat on Santana's couch watching her.

It's salty and warm, and each lick makes her feel worthless, but by the time she's done she's hard again and she looks up at Charlie who was watching her and she feels herself shy away for a moment, she wanted to fuck Charlie desperately but she instinctively knows better than to leave her knees. "Can we—"

"You brought my father into my business. So, if you think you're going to put that inside me, then you're delusional as well as a disgusting perverted freak." Charlie said as she pulls out her phone. "I should take a picture of this," she muses and watches as Santana freezes.

"Please—" She panics, if those photos got out—

"Here's what's going to happen. I'll see you when I feel like it. And when I call for information, you give me information on your patients. Understand?" Charlie said before getting up. "Whether that's a week from now or a month from now. I'm a busy person, so this will be on my schedule, not yours. Understand?"

Santana nods, and flinches when Charlie pats her head as she heads out, she shivers and looks down at her throbbing member again. She would masturbate furiously until she went to sleep. She wants to ask if Charlie really thinks she's a disgusting freak, but the words get stuck in her throat, and she listens to Charlie's heavy bootsteps which suddenly stop and she closes her eyes, waiting for more harsh words.

"You need better security it took me like two minutes to break in. I'll have someone swing by tomorrow morning and boost your security," Charlie informs Santana before she leaves Santana alone.

She waits until she hears the front door close, and the latch click before she touches herself and begins to masturbate furiously to what just happened, the guilt and disgust building in the pit of her abdomen before she orgasms again hard, some of her cum hitting her face. She really was a disgusting freak.